


Like My Mirror Years Ago

by hrotsvit



Category: Pride and Prejudice & Related Fandoms, Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Altered Personalities, Don't copy to another site, F/M, eventually....some interpersonal drama, everyone else you'd expect to find will be there too, some character names and relationships changed though, this is a love story of course but I don't know if that's the main point of it, yes I used a hozier lyric as a title please don't drag me for it tyvm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:06:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24513565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hrotsvit/pseuds/hrotsvit
Summary: Mr. Bennet would like to see his daughters married, Mrs. Bennet would like to her daughters marriedwell. Between the dearth of eligible men in their neighborhood, a few family secrets, and the nasty rumors swirling about the aforementioned secrets, both of them might struggle to accomplish their goals.
Relationships: Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy
Comments: 36
Kudos: 80





	1. August 1810

**Author's Note:**

> yes, I know, I have another story I haven't finished......let's not talk about that right now, I'll hopefully get back to it eventually
> 
> this is cross-posted on AHA and I am very determined to finish it in a timely manner

In a small market town with a surplus of daughters, the arrival of a single gentleman of fortune into the neighborhood must be of particular interest to the area mothers. Occasionally, the fathers might also fret over their daughters’ matrimonial prospects—such was the case with one Mr. Bennet, the owner of a small estate near Meryton which was entailed away from his five grown daughters. His elder sister, having safely married her only daughter to the town’s widowed solicitor the previous year, also took an active interest in her nieces’ concerns. As the rector’s wife, this Mrs. Owens was particularly well placed to hear information that might affect her brother’s family. So it was that, in August of the year ten, she arrived in a flurry of excitement to visit with her sister-in-law.

“My dear Mrs. Bennet,” said she, “I have just had the most exciting news from Mrs. Phillips!”—Mrs. Phillips being her adult daughter—“A rich young man from the north has, just yesterday, signed to let Netherfield Park for the next year. What a fine prospect for your girls!”

Mrs. Bennet agreed, but then paused to ask what Mrs. Owens knew about the man’s background.

“Very little, to be sure. As I said, he comes from the north, and Mrs. Phillips supposes he could have no less than four thousand a year. He came to see the place on Monday and was delighted with it; Mr. Phillips tells me the man is of a generally jovial disposition. And although he spoke of sisters who would accompany him, he said nothing at all about a wife.”

“That is all very well, Mrs. Owens, but do you know the man’s name?”

“Bingley.”

Mrs. Bennet pursed her lips. “I do not recognize the name, but perhaps it is a minor family. I do hope the man is simply a second son renting after his brother took the main estate—it would not do for my girls to marry beneath themselves.”

“Why, Eleanor!” Mrs. Owens gasped, “My own dear sister married a tradesman and you have never disdained her!”

“Yes, but Mr. Gardiner is very respectable and does not aspire above his station.” Mrs. Bennet sniffed, “I simply cannot abide these families that make a fortune in trade and convince themselves that an estate is all it takes to quit their own sphere and join a better. Grasping and tawdry, the lot of them!”

“Be that as it may, you oughtn’t disdain a suitor so quickly for circumstances he cannot help. Times are changing and there are very few prospects in our neighborhood—you and the girls really must secure a source of support for that unfortunate day when my brother’s heir evicts you.”

“That may be so, dear, but my girls are gently bred and at the very least deserve husbands who are their equal. It is not as if I am holding out for a duke, after all.”

“Very well, but at least persuade my brother to call on the man when he arrives. Perhaps he will have a background acceptable to you—and if not, your example can teach his family how gentry ought to behave.”

“I suppose I can exercise compassion for those who truly want to improve themselves, but the thought does make me glad we have so assiduously avoided London society. I would hate for some scheming cit to use a passing acquaintance with me as a tool for social advancement.”

“Yes, well—on to another type of social advancement. Have you decided what you will do with Lydia?”

And with that, the topic of Netherfield’s new tenant was closed and the governess was called to report on the progress of Mrs. Bennet’s youngest daughter, who had recently turned fifteen. On finding Lydia’s conduct and educational advancement suitable, Mrs. Bennet declared that the girl would indeed be allowed to attend the next month’s assembly, albeit only as an observer and under the strict supervision of her mother and aunt.


	2. Chapter 2

Mr. Bennet was duly applied to by his wife and sister, and agreed to visit Netherfield’s new tenant at the earliest opportunity. Prevailing upon the man was not particularly difficult—given the precarity of his family’s situation, he was eager to have his elder daughters settled, preferably well. While he was far less demanding in terms of a suitor’s social status than his wife, he would certainly rather have a rich son-in-law if he could get one. So much the better if such security could be arranged before his youngest was out—after two decades denying his natural indolence at his wife’s insistence, he would much prefer to redirect the governess’ salary toward books and port rather than supplementing dowries.

When he did call on Netherfield, Mr. Bennet found Mr. Bingley just as amiable as reported, with some tendency towards excessive excitability. He was well-educated—though not exactly clever—and seemed, on the whole, like a neighbor worth knowing. Mr. Bennet deliberately did not ask about his background and upbringing (intending to evade his wife’s inevitable questioning), but Mr. Bingley told him freely that he was the son of a wealthy man with several business ventures in Leeds, and had been tasked with buying an estate and elevating the family to gentility. If Mrs. Bennet could be convinced to overlook such, Mr. Bennet thought Mr. Bingley might make a good husband for one of his more serene daughters—perhaps Jane or Mary. The trick, of course, would be in getting Mrs. Bennet to ignore his origins.

In the end, Mr. Bennet decided the best course of action was to simply not tell his wife what he knew of Mr. Bingley’s family, and to hope that one of his daughters would fall irrevocably in love with the man before Mrs. Bennet could discover his lower standing. Whatever her ambitions, Mr. Bennet very much doubted his wife would break a daughter’s heart to achieve them. Thus, when Mrs. Bennet predictably asked him what he knew of the new neighbor’s family, Mr. Bennet simply told her that he had not asked—which was technically the truth, even if he had been told all without asking.

Mrs. Bennet was peeved at her husband’s failure to collect such crucial intelligence, but quickly forgave him when she realized that his having visited at all gave her a significant advantage over her bitterest rivals. Lady Lucas and Mrs. Long were a pair of sisters who had lived in Meryton all their lives, and who had resented Mrs. Bennet since the day of her arrival. Mrs. Long (the younger of the pair) had been a favorite childhood playmate of Mr. Bennet, and both families had long assumed that the friendship would eventually lead to marriage. Both affected parties were indifferent to the idea but not necessarily opposed, and as they neared adulthood both Mrs. Long and Lady Lucas began to appreciate the benefits of a connection to the principal estate in the area. Then, to the sisters’ shock and dismay, Mr. Bennet had returned from spending the summer at a friend’s estate with a pretty young bride in tow, who seemed to think she was rather better than them. The sisters had spread all manner of unsavory rumors to make the interloper feel unwelcome, and had satisfied themselves with that for a time—until Mrs. Bennet began producing a series of pretty daughters, who threatened to someday snatch the suitors out from under the noses of the Lucas and Long girls just as their mother had done a generation before. This resentment was further increased by Mrs. Bennet’s insistence on having a governess for her children—an extravagance foregone by the other families of the neighborhood—and made even worse when it became clear that Lady Lucas’ eldest would turn out very plain.

Mrs. Bennet knew that she was likely to encounter her rivals in Mrs. Owens’ parlor later that week, and, hoping to increase her advantage over them, dispatched an invitation for Mr. Bingley to dine at Longbourn the next evening. Unfortunately, he was obliged to return to town that day and could not accept the invitation. Though disappointed, Mrs. Bennet took some comfort in the fact that his absence would prevent his introduction to the Lucases and the Longs before the assembly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for both the delay and the inclusion of some text directly from the original.
> 
> If you happen to see this story posted on another site (other than AHA, where I'm also posting it), please let me know—it's taking effort to write and I would prefer it not get stolen.

Just as predicted, Mrs. Bennet _did_ meet her two nemeses at Mrs. Owens’ a few days later, and speculation about Mr. Bingley _did_ dominate their conversation. Though Mrs. Owens had been the first to hear of the man, Mrs. Bennet’s knowledge of his return to town left her the holder of the very freshest intelligence—a position she greatly cherished. Lady Lucas was especially disconcerted by his hasty return to town. Besides putting her at the disadvantage of being unable to secure an introduction before the assembly, she worried that it might indicate some flightiness in his character. Mrs. Bennet remarked that rather than flightiness, his departure was possibly due to an inability to plan his business and travel in advance—but in the end, all the ladies agreed that neither flightiness nor lack of foresight was a desirable trait in a son-in-law. Mrs. Owens (displaying all the Christian charity expected of a parson’s wife) spoke up in the man’s defense, arguing that he was probably acting the responsible brother and collecting his sisters to escort them back to Hertfordshire. This opened new avenues for speculation on the number of ladies in his party, and particularly whether he would be bringing any unrelated to him.

These speculations were put to rest when the party from Netherfield arrived at the assembly and everyone saw that there were only five—Mr. Bingley, his two sisters, the husband of the eldest, and another young man. Naturally, this group began to be scrutinized and categorized by the good people of Meryton within a few moments of their entrance. Mr. Bingley had a pleasant face and manners just as genial as had been reported, and quickly endeared himself to the populace as he beamed over each introduction with genuine delight. Miss Bingley, tall and with an air of decided fashion, was perfectly polite in a way that, compared to her brother’s exuberance, appeared disinterested. Mr. Bingley’s other sister, Mrs. Hurst, looked rather worn-out—but as the rumor quickly circulated that she had three children to show for her four years of marriage, this judgement was accompanied by sympathy rather than derision and she was soon surrounded by a gaggle of clucking matrons. Her husband was—not bland, exactly, but certainly unremarkable. His clothing was just the style expected, but lacked any sort of individualizing character. Looking at him, one supposed that he read all the correct books and papers (but never anything beyond that) and could express all the correct opinions (but with no originality about them), and would be able to change all of these in an instant if and when society’s definition of “correct” changed.

The final member of this party, Mr. Darcy, caused quite a stir due to his height, uncommonly handsome features, and the report circling the room of his having ten thousand a year and a fine estate in Derbyshire. With such excellent qualifications, everyone was inclined to think well of him—until it became clear that he intended to skulk around the room, avoiding both dancing and conversation with those not of his party. His reserve during introductions had initially been excused—for few could hope to compete with Mr. Bingley’s ecstatic responses—but now his behavior was reconsidered and deemed proof that he thought himself above his company. All his wealth and looks had made him abominably proud, the residents of Meryton agreed. Some persisted in their futile efforts to socialize with him, most declared their disgust and resolved to politely ignore the man, and some of the women whispered and giggled about their regrets that such a rude man would have the audacity to be so attractive.

______________

Mrs. Bennet had selected an advantageous spot to settle herself and Lydia. They were near enough a window to have a slight breeze, but also in an excellent position to watch the dancers, and just the right distance from the refreshments to have a steady stream of people to mingle with while still avoiding a crush. In the first several sets, many neighbors sought the pair out to greet Mrs. Bennet and congratulate Lydia on her first appearance in society. As the evening wore on, the lulls in their conversation grew longer and more frequent, and Mrs. Bennet often gazed into the crowd silently. During one such lull, Mrs. Long and Lady Lucas moved in their direction, stopping a few feet away to whisper loudly. As she suspected the pair intended to be overheard, Lydia listened to their conversation without compunction. 

“What a delight,” Lady Lucas sighed, “to have such elegant and agreeable new neighbors!”

Mrs. Long clucked her tongue. “Elegant, certainly, but that Mr. Darcy was downright rude to Mr. Long—and I suspect Miss Bingley thinks herself above us as well.”

“But sister, they have reason to be proud. Unlike _some people_ I could mention”—here Lady Lucas glared in Mrs. Bennet’s direction, and Lydia whipped her eyes to her lap—“they certainly have the fortune and connections to excuse some apprehension about our simple country society. I am sure that Miss Bingley, at least, will warm to us soon.”

“Oh, I do hope so—having such a fashionable woman in residence would be such a delight. I have never seen the likes of her gown before, why, the colors and decoration nearly left me breathless!”

Next to Lydia, Mrs. Bennet snorted and muttered something that sounded very much like “Garish.”

“As for Mr. Darcy,” Lady Lucas continued, “well, he is a very wealthy man from a very old family. We shall simply hope his disdain settles upon those who….aspire above their stations.”

Mrs. Long laughed nastily at this. “I cannot _wait_ to see his response to Nell Bennet’s pretensions. What I would give to see her knocked down a peg or two!”

Lady Lucas smirked. “Look how she keeps watching him, I wager she’d like him to knock her down as well.”

“Cecily!” Mrs. Long gasped, “Surely not! I would have thought she’d throw her girls at him!”

“He’s already made it clear he’ll not acknowledge any of our daughters—why would she waste her time? She keeps staring at the man, I only hope his good sense and decorum will protect him from her wiles.”

Mrs. Long sighed. “Poor Mr. Bennet, it was only a matter of time until she decided she was too good for him as well. We must offer him comfort, when the time comes for him to don his horns.”

“It’s rather disgusting, isn’t it, that she would betray such an honorable man? And with someone so much younger—why, she’s old enough to be his mother!”

“She has hidden her vulgarity well these twenty-four years, but you and I have always suspected her lack of morals. A woman like that, her shameful end has always been inevitable.”

“Of course, no matter how correctly she was taught—some things are innate from birth. Whoever her people were, moral failure was certainly bred into her from the start.”

“That her daughters are so well-behaved is a testament to their father’s influence. Oh, poor, _poor_ Mr. Bennet! That such an excellent man must spend his whole life correcting a youthful mistake!”

_____________

Across the room, Elizabeth Bennet and Charlotte Lucas were sitting out a dance, due to the scarcity of gentlemen. Mr. Darcy stood a few feet away from them, looking forbidding. As the dance ended, Mr. Bingley approached his friend to encourage his participation in the evening.

“Come, Darcy,” said he, “I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance.”

“I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this it would be insupportable. Your sisters are engaged, and there is not another woman in the room whom it would not be a punishment to me to stand up with.”

“I would not be so fastidious as you are,” cried Mr. Bingley, “for a kingdom! Upon my honor, I never met with so many pleasant girls in my life as I have this evening; and there are several of them you see uncommonly pretty.”

“You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room,” said Mr. Darcy, looking at the eldest Miss Bennet.

“Oh! She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But there is one of her sisters sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty, and I dare say very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you.”

“Which do you mean?” and turning round he looked for a moment at Elizabeth, till catching her eye, he withdrew his own and coldly said: “She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me; I am in no humor at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me.”

Mr. Bingley left as advised, and Mr. Darcy scowled and stalked away toward the other side of the room. Elizabeth was momentarily taken aback by the insult, but quickly assured Charlotte that she did not lament the man’s disdain and was in fact grateful for his provision of such entertainment. Elizabeth delighted in the ridiculous, and soon had Charlotte nearly in tears laughing at her imitation of Mr. Darcy’s haughty manner. The pair told several of their friends about the incident with great spirit, and before long half the room knew about it and had added it to the tally of Mr. Darcy’s sins.

___________

Despite these unpleasantries, the evening as a whole was quite enjoyable for the entire family and they returned home exhausted and content. Mr. Bennet usually felt a touch of melancholy after such events, but not on this occasion. He arrived at breakfast the next morning in very high spirits, expressing his delight that Mr. Bingley had danced with Jane twice and frequently sought her company when not dancing. Mrs. Bennet was less thrilled—though she conceded that the man was very friendly, she ruled Miss Bingley’s dress ostentatious and her behavior ridiculous, and sourly concluded that the combination showed a lack of breeding. She also failed to see the humor in Mr. Darcy’s disdain for Elizabeth, and disparaged him at length. He was, in her view, too rich, too tall, too handsome, and too well trained by his (assuredly rich, tall, and handsome) family to think overly well of himself and look meanly on all others. In fact, Mrs. Bennet declared it a blessing that Lizzy should not suit his fancy, and a testament to her own good character.


	4. Chapter 4

Though Jane had been reluctant to speak of Mr. Bingley in the face of her mother’s displeasure, she began to express her admiration for him the moment she and Elizabeth were alone.

“He is so lively, and in a sensible way rather than a silly one,” she said, “And with such friendly manners! Even as he charmed all our neighbors, I never once felt he was ignoring me.”

“Oh, do not limit your list of his virtues, Jane.” Elizabeth replied, smiling. “He is also handsome and rich—taken in combination with such an excellent personality, he must be the ideal example of a young man.”

Jane blushed. “He is handsome, but oh, his character goes far beyond that! I was so flattered when he asked me to dance a second time, I had not expected such notice.”

“You were the only one who did not expect it, dear—what could be more natural than a handsome and amiable man gravitating towards the prettiest, kindest lady in the room? Many stupider men have seen your worth, and you have liked many a stupider man. I certainly cannot object to your liking him.”

“Dear Lizzy! But I am afraid Mama will be rather less approving.”

“And what would Mama’s approval matter, if you found you liked him enough to marry? She is not the one who must consent to an engagement, and I am sure Father would take your part. Besides, all her criticisms were for his sister, not for Mr. Bingley himself.”

“Poor Miss Bingley, she really is not as bad as Mama would have us believe.”

“You must admit, her manners were not equal to her brother’s.”

“Certainly not—but very few people can have such easy manners as Mr. Bingley when meeting an entire crowd of strangers. She was pleasing enough, once we had spoken for a while.”

“Pleasing enough!” Elizabeth laughed. “I hope she will improve beyond that, if she is to stay in the neighborhood.”

“Yes, she is to live here and keep her brother’s house—and I am sure she will become a very charming neighbor, once she has had time to adjust to our society. You saw how overdone her dress was, I expect she thought the ladies of Meryton would be just as critical as in Town. When she realizes that the people here are much…..friendlier, I think she will become friendlier as well.”

“Dear Jane, always so kind in your expectations of others. I admit that I did not see any desire to please or be pleased in her manners, but—as always—I shall hope that your goodness and optimism proves correct.”

Despite her words to Jane, Elizabeth privately held little hope that Miss Bingley—or Mr. Darcy, for that matter—would improve much upon acquaintance. To Elizabeth, both seemed to have been given every possible advantage in society—wealth, looks, and connections—and to be determined to squander those advantages on inflating their own senses of superiority rather than actually _socializing._ Miss Bingley in particular had been heard proudly telling several of the local ladies about the _very exclusive_ seminary she attended, but was unwilling to display the pleasing manners she must have been trained in. As to Mr. Darcy, she agreed with her mother’s assessment of him—he must be so rich, and with so much land, that he could not simply not be bothered with minor landowners and had foolishly forgotten that he shared the same status as them.

_______

To the mild dismay of their respective mothers, the Bennet girls were close friends with the two eldest Lucas daughters, Charlotte and Maria. That the Miss Lucases and the Miss Bennets should meet to talk over a ball was absolutely necessary; and so the group had arranged to meet at a crossroad between their estates to walk together. Kitty, nursing the cough that plagued her every autumn, was required by their mother to stay home, but as her sisters left they promised to bring back any gossip worthy of her time.

The remaining sisters found the Miss Lucases already waiting for them at the crossroad. Charlotte, an exceptionally sensible girl of about twenty-seven, was a particular friend of Elizabeth’s and the pair linked arms as the group started off.

“What did you think of Mr. Bingley, Charlotte?” Elizabeth asked her, “I noticed he danced the first with you.”

“He was very pleasant and gentlemanly, though I suspect he liked his next partner better.” Charlotte replied with a look toward Jane, who blushed prettily. 

“He was very kind to dance with me twice,” Jane said, “but I am sure he was only being friendly.”

Charlotte laughed at this. “Only being friendly! My mother and I overheard him speaking to Mr. Robinson, did I not tell you? Mr. Bingley was praising the assembly, and when he mentioned what very pretty ladies there were in Meryton, Mr. Robinson asked him which he thought was prettiest. He named you, Jane, without a moment of hesitation, of course.”

“See, Jane, it is just as I told you,” Elizabeth said, “he likes you very well and would be a fool otherwise.”

“He might also be a fool to like her.” Charlotte said thoughtfully, “He told Mrs. Long that his father had tasked him with elevating the family from trade—I cannot imagine any addresses he might pay would receive an especially warm welcome from your mother.”

Elizabeth laughed merrily. “Then we simply must hope he does not pay them to our mother!”

Lydia, who had been walking a few feet behind absorbed in conversation with Mary and Miss Maria Lucas, heard this last statement and called out to Charlotte.

“Speaking of that, Charlotte, I overheard your mother and Mrs. Long—”

“Lydia, you really mustn’t eavesdrop!” Mary interjected.

“Oh, quiet, Mary! Anyway, Charlotte, they were saying something about Mama that I did not understand, something about using her wiles against one of the other gentlemen in the party?”

Jane blanched, and her eyes went very wide, while Charlotte pursed her lips. Elizabeth decided it was best for her to answer.

“Lydia, you—you don’t need to know exactly what it means, you’ll understand when you are older”

“ _That_ is not a very helpful answer.” Lydia huffed.

“They were accusing her of planning some immoral behavior, the specifics of which are unimportant.” Mary said primly. “Of course, we know that she would never engage in such, anyone who knows her knows she is the embodiment of propriety.”

“Lydia,” Charlotte said, her voice strained, “you know very well that my mother and Mrs. Long have envied Mrs. Bennet since the day she entered this neighborhood—you would do best to ignore anything they say about her. Goodness knows everyone else already does.”

This seemed to placate Lydia, and the group continued on, though rather subdued. When they parted again at the crossroads, Charlotte apologized very prettily to Elizabeth and Jane for any offense that her mother had caused, and they promised to carry her apology back to Mrs. Bennet.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things:  
> 1\. Some of the language in this is lifted from the original, which I mostly try to avoid but sometimes Just Works Best. Sorry about that!  
> 2\. It sounds like several people in the community have had their works stolen and posted on amazon without their permission. If you see my work anywhere other than here or AHA (under the name romi), please let me know so I can deal with it. If you're looking for works to steal: don't you dare.

The next morning saw the Netherfield party (sans Mr. Hurst) calling at Longbourn. Mr. Bingley was very clearly the force behind this visit, practically bouncing up the front steps in his enthusiasm. Upon entering the parlor, he naturally gravitated toward Jane, who smiled and began quietly conversing with him. Though she could certainly not match her brother’s enthusiasm, Mrs. Hurst did seem pleased to be there and quickly settled herself next to Mrs. Bennet in hopes of soliciting the older matron’s advice. Just as she had been the last time they met, Miss Bingley was rather over-dressed for the occasion—Mrs. Bennet’s eyebrows shot up for just a moment upon her entrance, and Lydia could not stop herself from commenting on what an astonishingly bright fabric Miss Bingley had chosen. To those who knew her well, the comment sounded rather like an insult. Miss Bingley, determined to hear herself praised, took it as a compliment. Smiling indulgently, she began to regale Lizzy, Kitty, and Lydia with tales of her many shopping expeditions and social engagements in London, no doubt thinking herself very charitable towards such sheltered country mice. She seemed to take particular pleasure boasting of her skill in finding the most sumptuous fabrics and arranging daring color combinations.

Had the French stormed the parlor, held Lizzy at gunpoint, and demanded she compliment Mr. Darcy, she supposed she must have commended him for his constancy of character. Just as he had at the assembly, he managed to—deliberately, Lizzy suspected—position himself just near enough to a group (herself, Kitty, Lydia, and Miss Bingley) to not look as if he was avoiding company, while staying just far enough away to avoid being drawn into the conversation. He spent the majority of the visit sitting silently and looking bored, although he did exert himself to compliment Mrs. Bennet on the quality of her apple cakes, which he said reminded him very much of the ones that his mother had favored. In spite of her resentment towards him, Mrs. Bennet was very pleased with his pronouncement and wondered aloud whether the dear friend who had given her the recipe decades ago might have also known his mother. Though Miss Bingley rolled her eyes at what she considered an obvious attempt to ingratiate, Mr. Darcy conceded that such a distant connection was not impossible.

Despite their mutual animosity, Meryton’s size prevented Lady Lucas and Mrs. Bennet from reasonably excluding one another from general invitations, and so the ladies of Longbourn next encountered the Netherfield party during an evening at Lucas Lodge. Almost immediately upon the party’s entrance, Mr. Bingley bounced over to seek Jane’s company. Elizabeth was very pleased to see his obvious admiration for her favorite sister, and mentioned this to Charlotte. 

“Indeed,” Charlotte replied, “Mr. Bingley’s attentions toward Jane are very clear. I wonder, though, whether Jane feels similarly toward him.”

Elizabeth was shocked that Jane’s affections could be called into question. “Of course she does, Charlotte! She has been most pleased with his company. See how friendly and polite she is toward him, encouraging his conversation while maintaining decorum to prevent unseemly rumors.”

“Jane is always very sweet and very proper, but I wonder if in this case she is too proper. Even I, having known her my entire life, am struggling to discern her regard for him. How can we expect the poor man to see it? He very clearly likes her now, but might never do more without encouragement from her.”

“She helps him on as much as her nature will allow—growing up the subject of unkind scrutiny, maintaining strict propriety is like breathing for her. Still, he would be a fool not to see how readily she welcomes his company.”

“Remember, Eliza, he does not know Jane’s disposition nor the petty dramas of our society as we do. He may see nothing more than politeness in her treatment of him.”

“She certainly does not endeavor to conceal her preference for him, simply to avoid scorn. I am convinced that if he does not perceive it after so much time in her company, he would be too much a fool to have her anyway.”

“A few evenings together cannot really be called so much time—at least not a few evenings centered around polite and reserved conversation. They have so little time together, rather than discussing books and card games she ought to put herself forward, profess perhaps more than she feels, and secure his affections.”

“If her only goal was to marry, your plan would be a good one. But she would bear our mother’s disapproval upon alliance with a family such as the Bingleys, and if she is to weather that it ought to be for the deepest love of a truly worthy man.”

“Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance, if both parties have complementary dispositions. Although I suppose if she is just as likely to be happy with him as with a dozen other men, perhaps she should wait for one of those dozen who your mother would like as well. Tell me, would Mrs. Bennet be very angry to be connected to the Bingleys?”

“She was not upset when our father’s younger sister married a tradesman, after seeing how sensible and well-bred he was and realizing that despite his wealth he had no intentions to quit his sphere. But she cannot stand social climbers and has already developed a strong distaste for Miss Bingley—truly, I think the connection to her would be the greatest insult. Still, if Jane really loved Mr. Bingley, Mama would come to terms with it eventually. She is not so haughty as to put her own prejudices above the happiness of her daughters.”

“Well then, I shall wish Jane every success in falling so in love with Mr. Bingley that your mother’s objections must be overruled—and if she cannot do that, I hope she will escape the acquaintance unscathed.”

Elizabeth laughed at this, and turned to cross the room towards Mary. Immersed in her conversation with Charlotte, she had failed to notice Mr. Darcy standing some partway across the room watching her. Had she seen him, she would have assumed he was cataloging more faults to criticize. Much to the dismay of the gentleman, this was not the case. Instead, he was regretting his earlier assessments of her beauty, becoming enchanted by her sparkling eyes and lively disposition. Lost in his thoughts, mortified by his growing desire to know her better, he moved toward her almost unconsciously. 

Sir William Lucas caught his elbow as he passed near her. “What a charming amusement for young people this is, Mr. Darcy! There is nothing like dancing after all. I consider it as one of the first refinements of polished society.”

Darcy, taken aback to find himself addressed at all, responded more rudely than he intended. “Certainly, sir; and it has the advantage of also being in vogue among the less polished societies of the world. Every savage can dance.”

Sir William, happily, had an ear unskilled at detecting rudeness and merely laughed at this. “Your friend performs delightfully, sir, and I am certain you are quite proficient as well.”

“Proficient, yes, but certainly not delightful.”

“I saw you dance at the assembly and was most gratified by the sight. And, certainly, you must have a house in town?”

“I do.”

“Capital! I had once considered procuring one myself, but I did not think the air would agree with Lady Lucas. But if you have a house in town, you must often be at St. James’s, and of course you must dance there.”

“Never, sir.”

“Do you not think it would be a proper compliment to the place?”

“It is a compliment which I never pay to any place if I can avoid it.”

Sir William was momentarily silenced by this shocking revelation. At that moment, Elizabeth moved away from her party and, seeing her pass out of the corner of his eye, Sir William turned and called her over.

“My dear Miss Eliza, why are you not dancing? Mr. Darcy, you must allow me to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner. You cannot refuse to dance, I am sure when so much beauty is before you.” And, taking her hand, he would have given it to Mr. Darcy who, though extremely surprised, was not unwilling to receive it, when she instantly drew back, and said with some discomposure to Sir William:

“Indeed, sir, I have not the least intention of dancing. I entreat you not to suppose that I moved this way in order to beg for a partner.”

Mr. Darcy, with grave propriety, requested to be allowed the honor of her hand, but in vain. Elizabeth was determined; nor did Sir William at all shake her purpose by his attempt at persuasion.

“You excel so much in the dance, Miss Eliza, that it is cruel to deny me the happiness of seeing you; and though this gentleman dislikes the amusement in general, he can have no objection, I am sure, to oblige us for one half-hour.”

“Mr. Darcy is all politeness,” said Elizabeth, smiling.

“He is, indeed; but, considering the inducement, my dear Miss Eliza, we cannot wonder at his complaisance—for who would object to such a partner?”

Elizabeth laughed and moved away, leaving Darcy stunned—and rather disappointed, he was surprised to find—in her wake. He was exploring this disappointment when the sudden arrival of Miss Bingley at his side startled him out of his musings. 

“I can guess the subject of your reverie.”

“I should imagine not.”

“You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many evenings in this manner—in such society; and indeed I am quite of your opinion. I was never more annoyed! The insipidity, and yet the noise—the nothingness, and yet the self-importance of all those people! What would I give to hear your strictures on them!”

“Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind was more agreeably engaged. I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow.”

Miss Bingley immediately fixed her eyes on his face, and desired he would tell her what lady had the credit of inspiring such reflections. Mr. Darcy replied with great intrepidity:

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet!” repeated Miss Bingley. “I am all astonishment. How long has she been such a favorite?—and pray, when am I to wish you joy?”

“That is exactly the question which I expected you to ask. A lady’s imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony, in a moment. I knew you would be wishing me joy.”

“Nay, if you are serious about it, I shall consider the matter absolutely settled. You will be having a charming mother-in-law, indeed; and, of course, with her self-importance she will consider a place at Pemberley her natural due.”

He listened to her with perfect indifference while she chose to entertain herself in this manner; and as his composure convinced her that all was safe, her wit flowed long. On the whole she had found very little to admire in Meryton society, and amused herself for the rest of the evening whispering barbed remarks about its denizens to Mr. Darcy at every opportunity.


	6. Chapter 6

Mr. Bennet’s property consisted almost entirely of an estate bringing three thousand five hundred a year, which, unfortunately for his daughters, was entailed on a distant cousin. Mr. Bennet had made moderate improvements to the estate in the early years of his marriage, but once it became clear that there would be no son to inherit he lost interest in further projects. At the insistence of his wife, he instead began to redirect excess funds toward the education and dowries of his five daughters. Though none of the girls would ever be great heiresses, careful investment had left each with a respectable portion for the daughter of a modest country gentleman. Mrs. Bennet had not brought a great fortune to her marriage—a mere thousand pounds, an amount not commonly known to Meryton society—but had prevailed upon her husband to set aside enough that the family would not be thrown into utter desperation if the estate’s heir someday evicted them.

Besides the distant cousin who would someday own Longbourn, Mr. Bennet had two sisters—Mrs. Owens, the vicar’s wife, and Mrs. Gardiner, whose husband was engaged in a respectable line of trade in London. As for Mrs. Bennet’s family, neither the locals of Meryton nor the woman’s own daughters could say. One assumed that Mrs. Bennet (and presumably also Mr. Bennet) knew who her people had been and whence she came, but if her family ever was discussed it was certainly not in the presence of her daughters. The topic was never raised, and the Bennet girls, rather than turning it into some great mystery, rarely gave any thought to it at all.

The village of Longbourn was just over a mile from Meryton, where Mrs. Owens’ only daughter, Mrs. Phillips, lived. Mrs. Phillips, a sensible woman about six years older than Jane, was much admired by her younger cousins, particularly Kitty and Lydia. Between the shops in town and their cousin’s presence, the sisters usually walked to Meryton several times a week, chaperoned by Lydia’s governess Mrs. Wilson.

Due to the placement of their aunt and cousin within Meryton society, the Bennets were kept well-supplied with the freshest news and gossip. About a week after the evening at Lucas Lodge, Mrs. Owens arrived all in a flutter bearing the news that a militia regiment had arrived just two days before, and would be quartered in the neighborhood for the entire winter. Both Mrs. Owens and Mrs. Bennet were excited at the prospect of having new society to mix with, and Mrs. Owens assured Mrs. Bennet that the Phillipses intended to host a party for the officers as soon as they were able. Lydia, a great reader of novels with an eye for dashing menswear, was also excited at the prospect of having new society to mix with, and, sighing, expressed her wish that the officers might be handsome. Kitty smirked at this and reminded Lydia that she was not yet out, and so the handsomeness of the officers could have little effect on her—but Lydia laughed gaily and assured Kitty that she needn’t be out to admire the view. Mrs. Wilson looked rather alarmed by this statement, and may have been on the verge of rebuking Lydia, but Mrs. Bennet beat her to it:

“None of you ought to set your hearts on officers, girls, for very few can afford to support you in the manner you are accustomed to. At your age I liked a red coat very well myself, Lydia, but certainly not enough to winter in a tent with no money for dresses or ribbons. Still, a smart young colonel with five or six thousand a year and a gentleman father might do very well for any one of you—if only we could rely on such a man to exist at all!”

Lydia laughed again at this and assured her mother she had no intention to follow the drum.

Shortly thereafter, a footman entered with a note from Netherfield for Miss Bennet, which he waited for an answer to. At Kitty and Lydia’s insistence, she read it aloud to the room.

“MY DEAR FRIEND,—  
“If you are not so compassionate as to dine to-day with Louisa and me, we shall be in danger of hating each other for the rest of our lives, for a whole day’s tête-à-tête between two women can never end without a quarrel. Come as soon as you can on receipt of this. My brother and the gentlemen are to dine with the officers.—Yours ever,  
“CAROLINE BINGLEY”

“Dining out,” said Mrs. Bennet, “that is just as well! Mrs. Hurst is certainly a pleasant neighbor and it would not be a burden to know her better—if you would like to go, Jane, I will call the carriage.”

Jane, ever reluctant to impose, assured her mother that she would happily go on horseback or even walk if it would be less trouble.

“Nonsense!” her mother cried, “What would they think of us if we sent you on foot! Besides, it looks as though it might rain.”

With this, the argument was settled. Jane was packed off to Netherfield, and Mrs. Owens left shortly after. Within an hour of their aunt’s departure, it had begun to rain torrentially, and Mrs. Bennet spent the evening fretting about whether Jane would make it safely back that night. Her fears were answered, for Jane did not reappear—worse still, a note arrived for Lizzy at breakfast the next morning in place of Jane herself.

“MY DEAREST LIZZY,—  
“I find myself very unwell this morning, in spite of all my efforts to remain dry yesterday. My kind friends will not hear of my returning till I am better. They insist also on my seeing Mr. Jones—therefore do not be alarmed if you should hear of his having been to me—and, excepting a sore throat and headache, there is not much the matter with me.—Yours, etc.”

Mrs. Bennet was very alarmed at this, and voiced her regret at having allowed Jane to go at all.

“Well, my dear,” Mr. Bennet said in an attempt to comfort her, “you know how these colds are. They come on so suddenly, and no one could have foreseen it, especially as you took every precaution to keep Jane well. I am sure she shall be well again in a few days, people do not die of little trifling colds.”

“Oh! I am not afraid of her dying—I only wish she could be in the comfort of her own home, among her own family.”

Elizabeth sympathized with this wish, and was determined to go to Jane. She declared her intention to walk to Netherfield forthwith.

“How can you be so silly,” cried her mother, “as to think of such a thing, in all this dirt! You will not be fit to be seen when you get there.”

“I shall be very fit to see Jane—which is all I want.”

“Is this a hint to me, Lizzy,” said her father, “to send for the carriage?”

“Not at all,” she replied, “for with so much mud on the road I suspect the carriage would only slow me down. It is a beautiful morning and three miles is practically nothing. I am sure I shall enjoy the walk, and return by dinner.”

Her sisters agreed to accompany her as far as Meryton, where they hoped to visit their cousin. After parting from them at a crossroads, Elizabeth continued her walk with more attention to speed than cleanliness, jumping over stiles and dancing around puddles as she crossed the muddy fields impatiently. She arrived at the house with her hem, petticoats, and stockings all rather muddy. 

Despite her pleas to be brought directly to her sister, Elizabeth was shown into the breakfast room, where everyone except Jane was assembled. Just as she had feared, her wild appearance was met with surprised reactions—the loudest and most frequent of which originated with Miss Bingley. Mrs. Hurst, with her three small sons, was rather less shocked by mess, but she did admit some astonishment that Elizabeth had walked so far in such conditions. Mr. Bingley’s comments were entirely good humored, while Mr. Darcy (who was uncomfortably distracted by the brilliancy which exercise had lent Elizabeth’s complexion) just stared at her in silence. Mr. Hurst had barely looked up from his paper to notice her entrance and demonstrated a remarkable ability to tune out Miss Bingley’s exclamations.

Inquiring after her sister, Elizabeth was discouraged to hear that Miss Bennet had not slept well at all and was very feverish. She asked to be taken to her immediately, and found Jane just as uncomfortable as reported—though thrilled to have her closest sister with her, and brimming with gratitude for the kindness she had been treated with. When Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley joined them after breakfast, Elizabeth was pleased to see that they really _did_ treat Jane with affection and solicitude, and that Mrs. Hurst at least seemed adept in a sickroom. The apothecary came, and having examined his patient, said, as might be supposed, that she had caught a violent cold, and that they must endeavour to get the better of it; advised her to return to bed, and promised her some draughts. The advice was followed readily, for the feverish symptoms increased, and her head ached acutely. Elizabeth did not quit her room for a moment; nor were the other ladies often absent; the gentlemen being out, they had, in fact, nothing to do elsewhere.

When the clock struck three, Elizabeth felt that she must go, and very unwillingly said so. Miss Bingley offered her the carriage, and she only wanted a little pressing to accept it, when Jane testified such concern in parting with her, that Miss Bingley was obliged to convert the offer of the chaise to an invitation to remain at Netherfield for the present. Elizabeth most thankfully consented, and a servant was dispatched to Longbourn to acquaint the family with her stay and bring back a supply of clothes.


	7. Chapter 7

Elizabeth’s trunk arrived just before five, with rather excellent timing as the ladies had been just about to retire to dress. It was accompanied by a note from her mother, informing her that Mary had been kind enough to oversee the trunk’s packing, and that dear, sweet Lydia had insisted on including several books to entertain her sisters while they had the misfortune of being from home. Investigating further, Elizabeth found that “dear Lydia,” probably thinking herself  _ exceptionally _ clever, had sent two agricultural tracts and a volume of Bowdler’s Shakespeare. Rolling her eyes at her sister’s rather poor joke and hoping that Netherfield’s library was well-stocked, Elizabeth completed her toilette before returning to sit with Jane. At half-past six, she was called to dinner.

She was greeted with civil inquiries to Jane’s health, to which she unfortunately could not make a very favorable answer. Miss Bingley, hearing that Jane continued very poorly, responded by repeating, three or four times, how shocking it was to have a bad cold and how excessively she disliked being ill herself. Her apparent indifference toward Jane, coupled with the increasing dramatics of her pronouncements, quickly restored Elizabeth to her former dislike of the woman. Though Mrs. Hurst joined her sister in bemoaning how dreadful it was to be ill, she also spoke very sympathetically to Elizabeth on how much  _ worse _ it was to watch a loved one suffer—and so did not sink in Elizabeth’s estimation as her sister had.

Mr. Bingley, as well, showed a very pleasing anxiety for Jane’s wellbeing, and made every effort to engage Elizabeth herself in conversation throughout dinner. Between his civility and Mrs. Hurst’s, Elizabeth found herself tolerably well entertained and was able to stave off that sickening feeling of being an unwelcome intruder in an intimate party. Mr. Darcy did not engage with her at all—Miss Bingley seemed very determined to monopolize his attention and left very little room for him to talk with anyone else at the table. Mr. Hurst, sitting across from Elizabeth, seemed too entranced by his ragout to even notice the other members of the party. By all appearances he was an indolent man with few interests beyond his own comfort, and Elizabeth wondered at his marriage to Mrs. Hurst, whom she was beginning to quite like.

When dinner was over, Elizabeth returned directly to Jane, and Miss Bingley began abusing her as soon as she was out of the room. Her manners were pronounced to be very bad indeed, a mixture of pride and impertinence; she had no conversation, no style, no beauty. Mrs. Hurst, torn between her usual duty of agreeing with her sister and her promising acquaintance with the Bennets, settled on a halfhearted defense, adding:

“Even you, Caroline, must admit that Miss Bennet really is an excellent walker.”

“An excellent walker!” Miss Bingley cried, “That is capital, Louisa! She has just as much to recommend her as Charles’ horse—and rather less sense, I should think. Absurd behavior, to go scampering all over the country, just because her sister had a cold. I could barely keep my countenance at her arrival, why, her petticoat must have been at  _ least _ six inches deep in mud!”

“I did note the mud—poor thing, the gown which had been let down to hide it was not doing its office at  _ all _ . It really was an odd choice to greet us, if I had looked half so wild I am sure I would have quietly escaped upstairs before anyone could see me.”

“You ladies paint a very exact picture,” said Mr. Bingley, “but all this was lost upon me. I thought Miss Elizabeth looked remarkably well when she came into the room this morning. Her dirty petticoat quite escaped my notice.”

“You observed it, Mr. Darcy, I am sure,” said Miss Bingley; “and I am inclined to think that you would not wish to see your sister make such an exhibition.”

“Certainly not.”

“To walk three miles, or four miles, or five miles, or whatever it is, above her ankles in dirt, and alone, quite alone! What could she mean by it? It seems to me to show an abominable sort of conceited independence, a most country-town indifference to decorum.”

“It shows an affection for her sister that is very pleasing,” said Bingley.

“I am afraid, Mr. Darcy,” observed Miss Bingley in a half whisper, “that this adventure has rather affected your admiration of her fine eyes.”

“Not at all,” he replied; “they were brightened by the exercise.” A short pause followed this speech, and Mrs. Hurst began again:

“I am very fond of both Misses Bennet, they are charming girls and I wish with all my heart to see them well settled. Still, in such a neighborhood and with such insignificant connections, their prospects cannot be very good.”

“Their uncle is the rector at Meryton, is he not?” Mr. Darcy asked.

“He is, and I have heard their other uncle lives somewhere near Cheapside.”

“If they had uncles enough to fill  _ all _ Cheapside,” cried Mr. Bingley, “it would not make them one jot less agreeable.”

“But it must very materially lessen their chance of marrying men of any consideration in the world,” replied Darcy.

At this, Miss Bingley laughed rather nastily and broke into the conversation, saying, “I believe it is their  _ mother _ , rather than whatever number of tradesman uncles they have, who will ruin their chance at marrying any sort of respectable man.”

“Whatever can you mean?” her sister asked. “Mrs. Bennet is a very pleasant neighbor, I cannot imagine how she might harm her daughters’ prospects.”

Miss Bingley smirked. “Pleasant or not, she is hiding something—and secrecy is almost always the precursor to scandal. Lady Lucas told me that absolutely  _ no one  _ in Meryton knows where she came from or who her people were.”

“Ah, the worst crime of all—unknown connections!”

“‘Unknown connections’ is an understatement, for Mrs. Long informed me of the general assumption that she must be the natural daughter of  _ somebody _ , and probably somebody rich.”

Mr. Bingley leaned forward in his chair. “Caroline! I would thank you not to repeat such unsavory rumors any further. A few peoples’ assumptions are a very weak ground to attack one’s neighbors from.”

Miss Bingley shrugged off her brother’s reprimand. “ _ One  _ of us ought to know what sort of people we are associating with, at least. Even if those particular rumors are not true, I am sure that whatever connections she is hiding must be very embarrassing to inspire such secrecy.”

“Simply marrying too far beyond her station seems a more likely explanation.” Mrs. Hurst mused, “In any case, she behaves very properly and  _ I _ am certainly not sorry to know her.”

At this pronouncement, the conversation died out. After some time, Elizabeth joined the party—having had the satisfaction of seeing Jane sleep, she thought it would only be proper to spend some time with her hosts. On entering the drawing-room she found the whole party at loo, and was immediately invited to join them; but suspecting them to be playing high she declined it, and making her sister the excuse, said she would amuse herself for the short time she could stay below, with a book. Mr. Hurst looked at her with astonishment.

“Do you prefer reading to cards?” said he; “that is rather singular.”

“Miss Eliza Bennet,” said Miss Bingley, “despises cards. She is a great reader, and has no pleasure in anything else.”

“I deserve neither such praise nor such censure,” cried Elizabeth; “I am not a great reader, and I have pleasure in many things.”

“In nursing your sister I am sure you have pleasure,” said Bingley; “and I hope it will be soon increased by seeing her quite well.”

Elizabeth thanked him from her heart, and then walked towards the table where a few books were lying. He immediately offered to fetch her others—all that his library afforded.

“And I wish my collection were larger for your benefit and my own credit; but I am an idle fellow, and though I have not many, I have more than I ever looked into.”

Elizabeth laughed at this. “However meager, your collection will certainly shine in comparison to the selections my sister Lydia chose. Sending me agricultural tracts may be a very fine joke to  _ her _ , but I admit that I was not particularly amused.”

“I cannot imagine she had many other options to choose from.” Miss Bingley said, “I am sure your father has more pressing demands on his time than the cultivation of a good library. I was certainly astonished to see what a small collection  _ my _ father left behind!”

Elizabeth could not decide whether Miss Bingley was attempting to insult her or not, and so chose to simply not respond. After an uncomfortably long moment of silence, Miss Bingley continued speaking.

“Mr. Darcy, on the other hand, has an utterly delightful library at Pemberley.”

“I cannot take the credit for it,” he replied, “for it has been the work of many generations.”

“You are far too modest, you are always buying books to expand the collection.”

“I cannot comprehend the neglect of a family library in such days as these.”

“Neglect! I am sure you neglect nothing that can add to the beauties of that noble place. Charles, as you build  _ your _ house I hope you will take Mr. Darcy’s behavior as an example.”

“I look to Darcy in nearly everything—it is only in sister-rearing where I believe I might have the upper hand.”

“Sister-rearing, how droll! But tell me, Mr. Darcy, is Miss Darcy much grown since the spring? Will she be as tall as I am?”

“I think she will. She is now about Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s height, or rather taller.”

“How I long to see her again! I never met with anybody who delighted me so much. Such a countenance, such manners! And so extremely accomplished for her age! Her performance on the pianoforte is exquisite.”

“It is amazing to me,” said Bingley, “how young ladies can have patience to be so very accomplished as they all are.”

“All young ladies accomplished! My dear Charles, what do you mean?”

“Yes, all of them, I think. They all paint tables, cover screens, and net purses. I scarcely know anyone who cannot do all this, and I am sure I never heard a young lady spoken of for the first time, without being informed that she was very accomplished.”

“I can assure you I am not accomplished, Mr. Bingley,” Elizabeth said, “as I find netted purses rather ugly and so never learned to make one.”

Mr. Bingley laughed at this. “What a novelty!”

“If every woman—save Miss Bennet, of course—can net a purse, then it is far too generous a criterion to define accomplishment with.” Mr. Darcy said. “The term ought to be reserved for those who are truly exceptional.”

“Then,” observed Elizabeth, “you must comprehend a great deal in your idea of an accomplished woman.”

“Yes, I do comprehend a great deal in it.”

“I concur with Mr. Darcy,” cried Miss Bingley, “no one can be really esteemed accomplished who does not greatly surpass what is usually met with. A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages, to deserve the word; and besides all this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word will be but half-deserved.”

“I fear your definition of ‘accomplishment’ may still be too generous to satisfy Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said, “for even within my confined country society I can think of several ladies who perform respectably in the subject areas you listed.”

“Really?” Miss Bingley said, “Who?”

“Well, all the young ladies dance, of course, and nearly all of them can play and sing well enough to please their company. Patience Goulding is certainly the best artist in the neighborhood for how lifelike she makes her subjects, but at least among my sisters I believe none of us lacks technical correctness. While I cannot speak for other households, I know that my sisters are all conversant in French and German—though Lydia is still wrestling with the past perfect, I admit.”

“Goodness,” Miss Bingley said, “with five daughters, your mother must have been very devoted to your education.”

“Devoted to its oversight, yes, but Mrs. Wilson deserves all the credit for the teaching.”

“And who is this Mrs. Wilson?”

“Our governess, you have met her at least thrice.”

Miss Bingley pursed her lips at this, and the conversation came to an end. Soon after, Elizabeth left the room and returned to her sister.

“Elizabeth Bennet,” said Miss Bingley, when the door was closed on her, “is one of those young ladies who seek to recommend themselves to the other sex by undervaluing their own; and with many men, I dare say, it succeeds. But, in my opinion, it is a paltry device, a very mean art.”

“Undoubtedly,” replied Darcy, to whom this remark was chiefly addressed, “there is a meanness in all the arts which ladies sometimes condescend to employ for captivation. Whatever bears affinity to cunning is despicable.”

Miss Bingley was not so entirely satisfied with this reply as to continue the subject and, as Elizabeth remained upstairs for the rest of the evening, Miss Bingley found herself without further opportunities to disparage her.


	8. Chapter 8

Jane was very restless that night, and Elizabeth was unable to retire to her own room until a little after three. When a housemaid bearing Mr. Bingley’s inquiries into her sister’s well being woke her the next morning (much earlier than she had hoped), she asked to send a note to Longbourn requesting her mother’s presence and judgment of the situation. In response to this note, Mrs. Bennet and Lydia arrived at Netherfield a little after breakfast.

Though Jane was faring much better than she had been the night before, Mrs. Bennet was still alarmed at her illness—and as much as she wanted her daughters home, she worried that Jane’s removal from Netherfield might be detrimental to her recovery. Though she listened sympathetically to Jane’s plan to be carried home (under a mountain of blankets and in a very slow carriage), she was reluctant to endorse it—and once the apothecary arrived and advised that Jane ought not be moved, Mrs. Bennet rejected the idea completely. Her only consolation in the matter was that if Jane was too ill to return home, she must also be too ill to spend much time in Mr. Bingley’s company.

Mr. Bingley was very grieved by the report that Jane was still faring so poorly, and assured Mrs. Bennet that it would be no burden at all to continue hosting her daughters at Netherfield. Mrs. Hurst assured her that she would give every attention to Miss Bennet’s comfort, and Mrs. Bennet thanked the siblings very civilly. 

“I am glad poor Jane can rely on such kind friends in a trying time.” she said, “It is my only consolation, seeing her so miserably ill, to know that she is so well cared for.”

“I am happy to do it,” Mrs. Hurst replied, “for anyone in need, as befits my Christian duty, but I must admit that Miss Bennet is an ideal patient. She bears her discomfort very nobly, with barely a complaint at all.”

“Yes, she has always had the sweetest temper of all my girls—and I daresay the whole neighborhood. And I am sure her sweetness is only increased by being among her friends. She is really very fond of you, Mrs. Hurst, and you, Miss Bingley—I hope your brother will not quit the neighborhood too quickly, though I know his lease is short.”

“Whatever I do is done in a hurry,” Mr. Bingley replied, “and therefore if I should resolve to quit Netherfield, I should probably be off in five minutes. At present, however, I consider myself as quite fixed here.”

“Do you have somewhere else to rush off to? It would be very ill-advised to quit the country without another destination already arranged.”

“Why, I suppose we would move to Hurst’s house in town to take in the amusements there.”

“Do you prefer the town to the country, then?” Elizabeth asked.

“When I am in the country,” he replied, “I never wish to leave it; and when I am in town it is pretty much the same. They each have their advantages, and I can be equally happy in either.”

“One must admit,” Mr. Darcy added, “that the society of a country neighborhood can quickly grow confined and unvarying. In town one is met with a much wider assortment of personalities.”

“Observing the way a few people alter over time—which can be quite dramatic—provides a much more comprehensive view for a student of character than meeting many people in passing.” Elizabeth countered.

“In any case,” her mother added, “our neighborhood is quite large for the country. We dine with four-and-twenty families, which certainly provides enough variety to keep  _ me _ satisfied.” 

“I am very fond of the country, madam,” Mr. Darcy replied, “and can easily remain so while acknowledging the greater number of amusements available in town.”

Lydia seized upon this statement as an opportunity to press her own interests, saying, “It would be the simplest thing in the world to increase the number of amusements available here, as well—if only you would agree to hold a ball, Mr. Bingley!”

“An excellent idea, Miss Lydia!” Mr. Bingley cried, “Once your sister is recovered you are welcome to name the day. It would not do to dance while she is still so ill.”

“It would not do for you to dance at all, Lydia,” Mrs. Bennet said, “for you are not yet out. Whatever can you mean by demanding that Mr. Bingley host a ball?”

“I mean to enjoy myself very much watching the dancers and taking in the general atmosphere, mother. Still,” Lydia said, sobering somewhat, “you must not hold a ball purely on my account, Mr. Bingley.”

“Nonsense! I think it a very fine idea, and I thank you for the suggestion. I wonder that neither of my sisters thought of it.”

After her mother and sister had left, Elizabeth immediately returned to Jane’s side. Apart from Mrs. Bennet’s visit, the day passed very much like the one before. Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley visited Jane for a few hours in the morning and Elizabeth joined the party in the drawing room that evening. Here she found several sources of amusement (in particular, Miss Bingley’s determined attempts to distract Mr. Darcy from a letter he was writing) and discomfort (from Mr. Darcy’s frequent glances in her direction, presumably to catalog her faults—which she only hoped were not being documented in his letter). The only really unusual thing that happened that evening was Mr. Darcy’s inviting Elizabeth to dance a reel while Miss Bingley was at the pianoforte—and as she cheerfully refused him, it was only a little moment of oddness.

The next day was similarly unremarkable—until the evening, when Elizabeth found Jane well enough to come downstairs (wrapped in an abundance of shawls, naturally) for a while. Upon their entry into the drawing room, Miss Bingley greeted them very politely, while Mrs. Hurst expressed real delight at seeing Jane so much improved. The four women spent a very agreeable hour together, in which Miss Bingley surprised Elizabeth with her ability to relate amusing anecdotes. 

Of course, this easy camaraderie dissipated the instant the gentlemen entered the room. Miss Bingley fluttered toward Mr. Darcy and began attempting to engage him in conversation, while Mr. Bingley inserted himself between Jane and Mrs. Hurst (who had been in the middle of a conversation) to express his delight at her burgeoning recovery. Mr. Hurst made all the appropriate polite remarks before settling in an overstuffed chair with his newspaper. Mrs. Hurst stayed near her brother and Jane, occasionally adding something to their conversation, and so Elizabeth had nothing to do but idly watch the other occupants of the room. 

Eventually, Mr. Darcy picked up a book and began reading. Very soon after, Miss Bingley began to pepper him with questions about his book in an effort to distract him. She was not very successful in this venture, and, after a full quarter hour of dragging monosyllabic answers out of the man, she abandoned her efforts and joined Elizabeth on the other sofa. This movement  _ did _ seem to draw Mr. Darcy’s attention, just for a moment, before he abruptly snapped his eyes back to his book. Elizabeth noticed this but chose to ignore it in favor of making bland small talk with Miss Bingley—though it was nothing compared to the conversation from earlier in the evening, it was certainly better than sitting in silence. 

From her new position nearer her brother, Miss Bingley could hear parts of his conversation with Jane. Hearing him tell her about his plans for a ball, Miss Bingley interrupted:

“Charles, were you  _ really _ serious when you told Lydia Bennet you would host a dance at Netherfield? Consider carefully the wishes of the present party, I am sure there are some among us who would find a ball punishment rather than pleasure.”

“If you mean Darcy,” cried her brother, “he may go to bed, if he chooses, before it begins—but as for the ball, it is quite a settled thing; and as soon as Nicholls has made white soup enough, I shall send round my cards.”

“I find it rather poor form to prioritize the wishes of a girl not even old enough to dance over the preferences of your own guests, but I suppose in the end it  _ is _ your house.”

“Your brother is right to consider the preferences of his neighbors,” Mr. Darcy broke in, “for he is secure in  _ my _ friendship whether or not he holds a ball, but must work to establish his position in local society if he means to remain here.”

“I suppose he must,” Miss Bingley sighed, “but I do wish there was a less tedious way to meet with the neighborhood. It would surely be much more rational if conversation instead of dancing were made the order of the day.”

“If you wish to host a salon, I am sure it would be well-received.” Elizabeth said, “Though I would advise a more conservative range of topics than you might choose in town.”

“Yes, Caroline,” Mr. Bingley laughed, “host as many salons as you like, only let me have my ball and the pleasure of dancing at it!”

Miss Bingley’s lips thinned. “I suppose the people must have their little amusements. Speaking of amusement, Louisa, dear, would you play for us?”

With Mrs. Hurst’s acceptance, the conversation was at an end. Jane returned upstairs about half an hour later, leaving Elizabeth to suffer through the tedium of the rest of the evening alone.

The next morning, seeing that Jane had not been harmed by her excursion downstairs, Elizabeth wrote to her mother to beg that the carriage might be sent later that day. To the displeasure of both mother and daughters, the horses were needed on the farm, and so the carriage could not be spared. The earliest that the sisters could be retrieved would be after morning services the next day. Jane resolved to ask Mr. Bingley for the use of his carriage, but he would not hear of her removal so quickly. He was certain she was still very ill, and that it might not be safe for her to travel so soon—indeed, he thought Sunday still would be far too early in her recovery to leave Netherfield. Jane held firm on this second plan, insisting that she was quite capable of surviving a few miles in a slow carriage.

Upon hearing that the Bennets would leave the next day, Miss Bingley suddenly became much more cordial towards Elizabeth and very affectionate toward Jane. It was all rather amusing, watching as she seemed to grow pleasanter and pleasanter by the hour in anticipation of their removal. Elizabeth, too, found that the woman annoyed her far less now that their time in each other’s company was finite. She was also surprised to find Mr. Darcy’s long, silent stares far less disconcerting with the knowledge that there would soon be several miles between the two of them. 

Darcy was torn between relief that Elizabeth would soon be out of his company and disappointment to see her go. He was drawn to her in a way that alarmed him, and very afraid that he might accidentally give her some sort of encouragement. Even  _ if _ the most salacious rumors were utter nonsense, he thought an attachment with her would be rather inappropriate. Miss Bingley’s jealousy, too, was grating on him, and he looked forward to a cessation in her snide remarks. 

The separation took place as planned and, despite Mr. Bingley’s worst fears, Jane  _ did  _ survive the trip back to Longbourn with no ill effect. Mrs. Bennet was very pleased to have her daughters back, though she bustled Jane upstairs immediately to ensure that she would not catch cold again. While their father was less effusive, he really had missed their presence at home and expressed great fondness to both upon their arrival. The sisters settled back into their family circle gratefully, and the conversation that night was very cheerful and animated.


	9. Chapter 9

“I hope, my dear,” said Mr. Bennet to his wife during tea the next afternoon, “that you have ordered a good dinner for tomorrow. I have reason to expect an addition to our family party.”

“Who do you mean, Mr. Bennet? I know of nobody that is coming, I am sure, unless Charlotte Lucas should happen to call in—and I hope my dinners are good enough for her. I do not believe she often sees such at home.”

“The person of whom I speak is a gentleman, and a stranger.”

“A stranger—one of your old university friends, perhaps? I am sure that renewing your acquaintance will bring him far more pleasure than whatever meal we arrange.”

“It is not an old friend, but a man I have never before met in my life.”

“Never before met in your life, and he expects to be received with less than a day’s notice? You use the word ‘gentleman’ much too liberally, I fear.”

“Delay your judgement just a moment, please, Mrs. Bennet. His letter is postmarked from a month ago, but the direction was written very badly and it only arrived this morning. Indeed, we are lucky to have had any warning at all.”

“And who is this man, whose sloppy penmanship will throw my household into such disarray?”

“My cousin, Mr. Collins, who, when I am dead, may throw your household into even more disarray by turning you all out as soon as he pleases.”

“That odious man! Between his inheriting the estate and his blotted writing, I am already inclined to dislike him—and if he really _does_ arrive tomorrow, without ever having received confirmation from you, he shall have proven my point that he cannot really be called a gentleman.”

“He is a parson, and in his letter he shows extraordinary deference toward the patroness who bestowed his living. As it was she who insisted he visit, I have every reason to suspect that he will arrive around four tomorrow, just as his letter states.”

Mrs. Bennet sniffed. “Then he is spineless as well as inconsiderate, how charming.”

“You may be too harsh, my dear, she sounds like a truly formidable woman. He _does_ apologize for the entail and says he hopes to heal the breach between his father and myself, which speaks well of his character.”

“Or his lack of common sense,” Mary interjected, “for I am certain he would not wish away the entail if he could.”

“Still,” her father replied, “the sentiment is very proper, and we ought to keep an open mind toward whatever his peace-making overtures he offers, at least until we know what they are. I hope he will be a valuable acquaintance, but if not, he may at least be an entertaining one and regale us with tales of the beneficence of his patroness. Mrs. Bennet, I am sure you will be endlessly amused by his tales of such a great lady, this—” he glanced down at the letter again, “Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”

Mrs. Bennet glared at her husband for a moment before replying, “I am certain I will find no interest in hearing about the woman who has saddled me with _such_ a houseguest.”

“Be that as it may, if he arrives we will simply have to receive him.”  
_________

Mr. Collins arrived just when he had said he would, and the whole family received him with apparent politeness—Mrs. Bennet having long since perfected the practice of hiding her disgust. He was a tall, heavyset young man who looked to be in his mid-twenties, with excruciatingly formal manners. He had not been long seated before he complimented Mrs. Bennet on having so fine a family of daughters; said he had heard much of their beauty, but that in this instance fame had fallen short of the truth; and added, that he did not doubt her seeing them all in due time disposed of in marriage. This gallantry was not much to the taste of any of his listeners; but Mrs. Bennet, always determined to demonstrate good manners to her daughters, thanked him very politely.

The man needed little encouragement to talk, and did so readily, until a summons to dinner interrupted some nonsense he was saying about an olive branch. Along the way to dinner, he paused to examine and praise the furnishings in the hall, and he continued this behavior within the dining room. Mary, usually rather solemn, nearly lost her composure at an especially ridiculous remark about the elegance of a fork’s tines, while Mrs. Bennet’s eyes narrowed at the heir’s every compliment of his future property. Her patience finally wore out when Mr. Collins asked which of his fair cousins was responsible for the excellent meal. Very offended, she informed him that they were very well able to keep a cook, and that her daughters had certainly never worked in a kitchen—and then was punished for this by having to listen to a full quarter-hour of Mr. Collins’ profuse apologies.

Mr. Bennet barely participated in the mealtime conversation, but after dinner he raised a subject in which he expected Mr. Collins to shine: his great fortune in having such an attentive patroness. (Mrs. Bennet rolled her eyes at this topic, which sent Kitty into a fit of giggles.) Mr. Collins eagerly seized upon the topic and was eloquent in his praise of Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s attention to his situation, assuring his audience that “he had never in his life witnessed such behaviour in a person of rank—such affability and condescension, as he had himself experienced from Lady Catherine. She took a very active role in the writing of his sermons, had asked him twice to dine at Rosings, and had always spoken to him as she would to any other gentleman. She was also full of concern for his domestic wellbeing, even condescending to advise him to marry as soon as he could, and had even once paid him a visit in his humble parsonage, where she had perfectly approved all the alterations he had been making, and had even vouchsafed to suggest some herself—some shelves in the closet upstairs.”

“Shelves in the closet,” Mrs. Bennet drawled, “what a fine mind she must have for innovation.”

“That she does!” Mr. Collins agreed, “Truly, she is an ideal example of the superior intellect found among those of noble birth. Her father was the fifth Earl of M—, you know, and it is only natural that with such exalted breeding she should be so brilliant.”

Mrs. Bennet looked annoyed at his response, and so Mr. Bennet cut into the conversation:

“She sounds very agreeable, particularly for such a great lady. Does she live very near you?”

“The garden in which stands my humble abode is separated only by a lane from Rosings Park, her ladyship’s residence.”

“I think you said she was a widow? Has she any family?”

“She has only one daughter, the heiress of Rosings, and of very extensive property.”

“Only one daughter!” Mrs. Bennet cried, “Well, she is far luckier than most girls to be such a great heiress, but she must have had a very lonely childhood. I count myself very blessed to have so many daughters.”

“A most appropriate maternal sentiment, Mrs. Bennet.” Mr. Collins said.

“What sort of young lady is she? Is she handsome?”

“She is a most charming young lady. Lady Catherine herself says that, in point of true beauty, Miss de Bourgh is far superior to the handsomest of her sex, because there is that in her features which marks the young lady of distinguished birth. Unfortunately, she is of a sickly constitution, which has prevented her from pursuing many accomplishments in which I am certain she would otherwise excel.”

“That must be very difficult for both her and her mother to bear, and I am reminded to be grateful for my daughters’ excellent health. Has she been too unwell to be presented? I do not remember hearing her name among the ladies at court.”

“Alas, her indifferent health prevents her from going to town at all—as I just told Lady Catherine the other day, society has been deprived of its brightest jewel. I have more than once observed to Lady Catherine, that her charming daughter seemed born to be a duchess, and that the most elevated rank, instead of giving her consequence, would be adorned by her. Such delicate little compliments are always pleasing to her ladyship, and I feel it appropriate to pay them frequently.”

“You judge very properly,” said Mr. Bennet, “and it is happy for you that you possess the talent of flattering with delicacy. May I ask whether these pleasing attentions proceed from the impulse of the moment, or are the result of previous study?”

“They arise chiefly from what is passing at the time, and though I sometimes amuse myself with suggesting and arranging such little elegant compliments as may be adapted to ordinary occasions, I always wish to give them as unstudied an air as possible.”

Finding his cousin just as ridiculous as he had hoped, Mr. Bennet determined it was time to stop tormenting his family with the continuation of such inane conversation. They would have an entire week to discover the depths of the man’s absurdity, and it would not to wear out Mrs. Bennet’s patience on the very first day. Thus he challenged Mr. Collins to a game of backgammon, freeing the women to their own amusements. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you're in the US and able, please consider donating to a bail fund. The National Bail Fund Network has a directory, and ActBlue has a tool to divide a single donation among multiple funds.


End file.
